Chapter 21: Answers & Animagi

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"I warned you! But did you listen to me? Oh, no, you knew it all, didn't you? 
Oh, it's just a harmless little bunny, isn't it? Well, it's always the same..."
-Tim the Enchanter, Monty Python and the Holy Grail

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Late one Wednesday evening, most of the seventh year students could still be found in the Gryffindor common room. As Hermione
had hysterically reminded Ron and Harry earlier that day, N.E.W.T.s took place in April and that was only four months away.

Harry was reading for Herbology; he had decided to forego most of the Defense Against the Dark Arts studying, since he had
learned so much of it already from other books he was reading during his free time. Hermione was practicing her patronus
charm and Ron was skimming the Defense chapter on vampires. Harry noticed that, although Ron looked like he was studying,
his eyes kept drifting over to an open notebook at his side which detailed several Quidditch strategies for the upcoming
game against Hufflepuff. He felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought that, no matter how Ron did on his N.E.W.T.s, he would
still have a job, and a cool one at that. Being an auror would be cool, he told himself. But avoiding Bludgers is
a little bit easier than capturing dark wizards...

Ron had indeed told the scout that he would play for the Chudley Cannons, though their record hadn't been so good in the last
few years.

"They've been doing much better this year," Ron had said in defense earlier that day, after Pansy Parkinson had mentioned
the team's enormous losing streak. 

Harry shook his head and tried to focus once again on the Herbology chapter. Nothing seemed to be making sense and the words
swam before his eyes. He sighed.

"Hey guys, I think I'm going to head upstairs," he told Ron and Hermione. 

"Goodnight, Harry," Hermione called sweetly.

"See ya up there, mate," Ron mumbled as he poured over his notebook, now hidden inside of the bigger Defense book. Harry climbed
the stairs, changed his clothes, and collapsed into bed. The moment his consciousness gave way to sleep, he found himself in
a very familiar situation. The white room, the calm feeling, the quiet dark-haired woman in the corner...

"Hello, Dulcinea," he said with a smile. She grinned back at him.

"So, you fancy yourself fit to be an animagus? Well, just be sure you're not neglecting your studies or your research."

"I know, that's what McGonagall said," Harry replied, nodding. Dulcinea rested her forefinger on her lips, looking thoughtful.

"Well, good luck with that, Harry. But the reason I came tonight was to check on how things were going in your plans for the
Dark Lord's defeat." She paused. "Do you have a group to go with you to the Department of Mysteries?"

"Err... well, I've been thinking about it," Harry said truthfully. "Do I really need anyone to come with me? Aren't I supposed
to defeat him alone? If I have other people with me, they're just going to get hurt or-"

"Harry," Dulcinea said sharply. "The reason you will defeat the Dark Lord is because you have the love and support of your
friends. They are not bound to you out of fear like Voldemort's Death Eaters. They will be important in your conquest, and
I sugget you start organizing them now." With a nod of her head, the white room swirled away and Harry sunk back into a
dark and dreamless sleep.

***************

"Oops!" Remus Lupin cringed as he heard the breaking of glass and watched Tonks' glass of red wine spill across the white
tablecloth. She sighed, pulling her wand out of her deep purple robes. 

"Scourgify!" she commanded, and most of the dark red stain disappeared. Remus quickly mended the wine glass. "Sorry," Tonks
muttered, inspecting the tablecloth. "You know how I am." Remus chuckled.

"It's all right, Tonks. Everyone has accidents. Besides, it adds a little comic relief now and then." Tonks snorted.

"It ceases to be funny when it happens every five minutes," she mumbled. Remus' cheeks flushed.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean any harm by it..." There was an awkward pause.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Tonks said finally. "I'm used to it." Luckily, the waiter came by and saved them from another
weird silent moment. After ordering, the conversation returned to normal.

"How's your class on Basic Defense coming, Remus?" Tonks asked, taking a sip of her wine, which the waiter had refilled.
Remus shrugged.

"Not bad. We've been covering Unforgivable Curses, which is kind of a touchy subject; with those attacks recently, all of
my students know someone who's been under at least one of them, if not all three..." He trailed off. Tonks nodded sympathetically.

"I know what you mean. That Cho Chang girl is in my Level One Auror Training class, the Killing Curse came up in discussion
the other day and she couldn't stop crying. Though she is one of the more, er, sensitive ones, it's impacted every one of them."

"It's changed us all," Remus said quietly. "No matter how it ends, none of us will ever be the same."

**************

Harry was quiet and withdrawn the next day. Not even Professor Jones' lesson could keep his attention; Defense Against the
Dark Arts seemed boring and Harry had resorted to scrawling a list of names in his notebook. Who else? How many people
does she want? he wondered. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville... maybe Luna will go. He scribbled her name at the
bottom of a list that now contained Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Parvati Patil, Terry Boot, Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, 
Ernie Macmillan, and Lavendar Brown. His eyes rested on the parchment; the list was quite long. How many will come out
alive? he asked himself, placing his hand on his scar which had begun to throb in pain. How many will be left?

"Harry," Hermione said, tapping him on the shoulder. "Class is over! Are you coming or not?" 

"Er, yeah, sorry," he said hurriedly, stuffing the list in his bag. As he walked out of the room, a sudden wave of a strong
emotion hit him. He wasn't sure if it was fear, guilt, anger, distrust - or a combination of all of them. Harry realized the
one person close to him who he had left off the list - Rachel. Why didn't I think of her before? Can't I trust her? he
asked himself.

*************

"Hermione," Harry said, trying to keep his voice low and unheard in the chattering common room. "D'you remember that list
of people we were making before? The ones we thought would be good to go to the Department of Mysteries you-know-when?" She
nodded and rose from her chair.

"Why don't we go up to the Head's common room to talk about this," she said firmly, leading the way up the spiral staircase.
Harry motioned for Ron to follow them. As soon as they were upstairs and the door was closed, Harry began rummaging through
his bag for the list. Ron sat down on the other sofa, looking confused.

"Here's who I have so far, my real problem is what to do about Rachel," Harry said, handing the parchment over to Hermione.
She looked over it with great interest, pursing her lips slightly and nodding.

"Harry, what is that?" Ron asked curiously, craning his neck in an attempt to read the paper Hermione was holding. Harry
sighed heavily.

"It's a long story, Ron, but I guess I'll tell you now." He glanced at Hermione, who was still engrossed in the list. "Well,
er, the reason I didn't tell you before was because we weren't talking, but... Well, here goes. You remember the ghost that
talks to me during my dreams?" Ron nodded immediately. "Well, she thinks the best way to defeat Voldemort is by using the
Veil of Death... you know, the thing Sirius went through..." Harry gulped before continuing. "So we would have to go to the
Department of Mysteries and somehow convince him to follow us. Dulcinea thinks it would be best if I had a group of people
with me, so I've been working on a list." He gestured towards the parchment Hermione was still holding. 

"And your question is whether you should trust Rachel enough to bring her?" Ron asked, catching on surprisingly quickly. Harry
nodded.

"What do you guys think?" he asked. Hermione frowned, but Ron just shrugged.

"Why not? She's harmless, I wouldn't worry about it," he said nonchalantly.

"Ron! She comes from a family of Death Eaters," Hermione argued. Ron raised his eyebrow.

"Since when did you care about bloodlines, Hermione?" he asked coldly. 

"That's not what I meant," she huffed. "She sees them all the time! If they really are Death Eaters, and she tells them our
plan, it would throw off everything! It could ruin it all," she said desperately. "Harry, I know you two are together, but
please, leave her out of this." Harry nodded.

"I think it would be best if I did," he mumbled. He sighed, putting his hand to his forehead and unconsciously running his
fingers through his hair. "It's just... I don't..."

"You don't know how it's possible to love someone but not trust them," Hermione stated quietly. Harry nodded. "I don't think
it is, Harry."

"But I do trust her! I just don't trust her family," he moaned miserably. Hermione glanced at her watch.

"It's getting quite late, I think I should get to bed. I want to get up early to study for that Herbology quiz again," she said.
Ron yawned and patted Harry on the back.

"Don't worry mate, it'll work itself out. Everything does."

************

Harry couldn't sleep again that night. He could hear Ron's quiet snores from the other side of the room; it was not loud
enough to be keeping him up, but just the volume to remind him that he himself was not asleep. Quietly, he snuck across the
empty room and pulled the thick transfiguration book out of the drawer. Getting back into bed and drawing the curtains once
again, he sat crosslegged in the middle of the mattress and opened the book to the chapter on animagi. He had been reading
about this so often he had nearly memorized the words. All the exercises had been practiced, all the tests taken, all the 
reading done. Sitting on his bed at nearly 1 AM, Harry came to the conclusion that there was no better time to try to change
himself into his animagus form for the first time. He picked up his wand; the book had said that the incantation usually had
to be used by beginners, at least for the first few times. Gulping nervously, he pointed it at himself.

"Animus commuto," he whispered, his voice shaking with anxiety. He experienced a sudden pain that he wasn't prepared
for; Harry had to bite his lip to keep from screaming out and waking Ron. After a moment the hurt subsided and he opened
his eyes. His eyesight was different, somehow worse and he could see less colors; his sense of smell, however, was very
strong. He glanced down at his arms and saw fur, but his hands and forearms remained unchanged. The book had said that too,
he remembered. It took many attempts to be able to transform completely. Shutting his eyes tight again, Harry easily changed
back into his human form. He picked his wand up off of the bed and stared at it thoughtfully.

"Just once more..." he mumbled aloud. This time, there was less pain and more fur. Again and again he transformed, from 
animal to human, human to animal. Finally, on his 12th try, Harry felt his emotions and thoughts change and become less
complex. He knew this was the final step - he was now 100% animal. Excitement flooding his veins, he crept off the bed and
pushed the bedcurtains aside with his long snout. He had gone through so much work for this - he wanted to know exactly what
he looked like. McGonagall's spell had been a preview, but it would be nothing like staring at himself as an animal. 

He moved clumsily away from his bed, at first unstable on four legs. He walked slowly to the side of the room where the 
full-length mirror hung on the wall. A single beam of moonlight had illuminated the area, and Harry stopped as he saw his
reflection. Looking back from the mirror was a gray timber wolf with a lightning bolt-shaped white mark on its forehead and
its yellow eyes staring straight back into his own. 

***********




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